


My Own Little Ragnarok (A Rewrite)

by Chibojan



Category: Loki - Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor: Tales of Asgard, Thunderfrost - Fandom, Young Loki/Thor
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Big Brothers, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Forgiveness, M/M, Memories, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:58:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibojan/pseuds/Chibojan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor, at seventeen, is the Rockhard Rock Star of Asgard.  A tender first time with his "own and nobody's else's" fifteen year old brother Loki goes a little awry when Thor realizes he might not actually know EVERYTHING he needs to know.</p><p>This expands on one of Loki's memories from "Much That Was Broken" </p><p>Rewritten and expanded for consistent tone. Major revisions begin at the sentence in bold, for the convenience of the reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Own Little Ragnarok (A Rewrite)

There have always been women for me: it was always very easy. If I had been as ugly as a three-headed haznari it would still have been easy, because of who I was:Thor of Asgard. Sometimes when things come easily you do not value them. Jane I valued because she was so far away and I knew that I would, in the end, have to marry Sif, and sometimes I have not been as I should have been to Sif because I knew she was, as they say in Midgard, a “sure thing.”

As far as bedding went, my first was a kitchen maid scrubbing the floor on all fours and I was twelve. Loki stood watch for me while I raped and pillaged – well, pillaged, she was pretty wiilling, but I conducted myself in true Viking manner.

“Shhhhhh, Thor! You sound like a herd of pigs being slaughtered.”

“Goodness, Lord Thor, at least let me put the brush back in the buck….Agh!”

“Submit to me, wench!”

“Not on this wet floor I’m not.” 

“Thor! Somebody’s coming!”

“Indeed, and it’s himself, the great Viking, done after a minute, it wasn’t worth taking me drawers down.”

But the tale grew in the telling to my mates. 

“Had her on the floor,”I bragged. “Took her, ravished her, walked away.” 

“With his pants unbuttoned all the way through the palace,” Loki would add under his breath.

Now it was no great thing for young males to have other young males or for young females to have other young females: in fact our wise elders encouraged it as it kept unwanted couplings from occurring. Most of us had marriages already arranged so had we fallen in love or produced a child out of wedlock it would have been a disaster; but a lover of the same sex was acceptable and often that close comrade remained close after marriage. They were no threat. I know of marriages that lasted for many hundreds of years with the “dear companion” as the term was almost, if not actually, a member of the household. It is a very civilized idea, really. If a man preferred men to men, as long as he did as he should and married his arranged bride and produced children as per contract, then he could have his joy as he liked it and many a happy Asgardian man has found himself the possessor of not one but two women who were perfectly content to be bedded together.

We do have some advantages over Midgard.

But it is Loki,as ever, to whom my story leads. When I was a strapping fourteen-year-old, Loki was twelve, still mainly long legs and big eyes, like a grasshopper. He was not the rampaging stallion I was, but he was definitely involved as procurer (“Lord Thor would like to see you in the barn – I mean in his chamber on a matter of great importance, madam!”) my lookout, as I have said, and on more than one occasion, because of his excellent mind and access to books, my medical advisor. (“There aren’t any pictures, Thor, I’m trying to read - I don’t know if it’s the clap. They don’t call it that. Are they bumps or “oozing sores”? No, the book doesn’t ask, I am, because if they are I want my own room.”) 

A talented artist, he once did a very accurate sketch of a lesion that I was not about to go to the healers with, because not a one of the bastards would treat a man of fourteen without telling his mother. He took it to a healer for me and said, “If you saw this, what would you treat it with?” “Caution,” the healer said. And then he told my mother since even wearing a false mustache, Loki was fairly identifiable as Thor’s Brother, The Funny Looking One. It turned out to be an insect bite. But the healer kept the drawing for years as a reference.

I owned Loki, body and soul. He did not always concur with that, and sometimes tried to establish his rights as a free citizen but I usually quashed that pretty swiftly. In any disagreement, picking him up and hanging him upside down out the third-story window usually settled the question. He was slower to mature than most of us, although when he did, he took no prisoners. I was laying about me right and left, male and female, and Loki found a book called Kama Sutra that did have pictures, and overnight I became a rockstar, as they say below.

If you have not read it, get it from wherever one gets books but be advised that you need a very strong tree for some of those positions and as trees are usually located outside, they may not be suitable for those without a forest at their disposal. Also some of them hurt and girls do not like being tied upside down. I am only passing this on as a favor.

It is a good thing that I did not know more about Midgard customs and the movies they call "Westerns" because if I had, Loki would probably be sporting a large “T.O.” branded on his backside. It had nothing to do with sex – then. Mother and Father had given him to me when I was two and he was mine, to be dragged by one arm or his hair, slept with or on, fed bugs to see if he would eat them and all the many experiments I had always wanted to try, just not on myself. 

Like many who are wiser than I, I did not notice him growing up; he was a baby when I got him and I fixed that picture in my mind and did not pay any attention to evidence to the contrary. Then he turned fifteen and grew into those eyes and legs all at once and began to be a source of distress. He was still more interested in his books and his “tricks” as I called them and Father had recently bought us both horses but the problem was not that the girls began to notice, but the boys – and the boys were considerably more aggressive. This was unacceptable. He was private property.

I had done no more than wrestle with him after baths and pop him on the bottom with a wet towel – which I think must be universal on all worlds- but when some of the older boys began to sniff around him I went into a jealous fury – and also I noticed what they were sniffing. I kept him close to me but as Father began grooming me for the opportunity to make even greater mistakes with my life we were often separated. Mother, not having a girl to dress, indulged herself in Loki dressing him perhaps a little too well: the greens and golds that went with his eyes, the clothes she had tailored to show off that lean dancer’s body. Loki was also clean as a cat and spent as much time bathing as a fish, which we all made jest of – except that not only did he look better, he smelled considerably better than the rest of us, who were wearing Eau De Last Night’s Splooge.

Mother did not mean to make him a target. She was only doing what women do with children they love and Loki existed in his own world and didn’t really notice what he wore as long as he had his books, his horse – and me. 

One day my property came home considerably scuffed up and disappeared – the regular way, I mean – immediately and I went into search mode. I did not recall having given permission for him to be handled. But handled he had been, indeed. When I smacked open the door to his room, which (of course) adjoined mine so as to make it convenient for me to order him around without going very far, he was backed up to the mirror wearing only his shirt and trying to bandage something on his bottom. 

“Can I help you, Thor, or are you just going around kicking open doors?”

He was a year or two away from being able to sense who was coming before they set foot beyond the door, although he told me that I was so loud he didn’t even need to try to sense me. “I just watch the crockery shake.” 

“What happened to you? Did you fall on your ass?”

“Yes. No. Do you not have something to do – train your hammer to heel or something?”

I grabbed him up – noticing immediately that there was suddenly a lot more of him to grab – and he resisted and because I am brilliant I assumed he’d been slutting around – how dare he, and _wherever_ would he have learned that – and I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder and dumped him on the bed. It was when he hit the bed sprawling that I saw the bruises on the insides of his thighs and the swelling around his balls. He came off the bed like a jaguar, speaking a language made entirely of profanities and insults about my sexual equipment and I grabbed him again (that was my answer to everything then, PICK IT UP AND THROW IT – the Mjolnir Method) but this time I threw the switch on my brain, as Tony says.

“Wait! Loki, put that down –“ he was preparing to sling the iron bootjack at me. “I shouldn’t have done that. Who hurt you?"

**He didn't want to tell me, but I would not brook a refusal. Aside from everything else, he was a Prince of Asgard. And I should never have let him go into the city alone. He was good with a knife, and fast, but he had a kind of unworldliness about him that Father said was from too much reading but I think it was simply that he did not know when to be afraid. Why, when I was his brother? What did he have to fear? Wasn't I always close by?**

“It was Voldstet, the one that hangs around the shops,” Loki said. He put the bootjack down. I knew who Voldstet was; big, not like me but just heavy, an eye for younger boys. I saw myself splattering his brains with Mjolnir. “He asked to see the book you bought me. He was very pleasant at first and said he had a book about drawing I would like at home and as we walked he asked if anyone had broken me in yet. I didn’t quite understand at first but he tried to kiss me and I was able to see his mind. You know, Thor, the way Father said not to talk about.”

"Yes, and it's a gift, Loki, no matter what Father says." I was trying to be calm, but I was seething; lightning ran up and down my arms.

“Can you really do that to a person?” He had suddenly stopped and was on another track, which was like him: his mind was quick and restless as a shark.

“What are you talking about, Loki?"

“What you’re thinking of. I don’t think you could, you see, because you can’t actually pull someone’s cock out through….”

“Thank you, baby brother, we’ll test that theory later. Now, what did he do to you? In detail, please, because whatever it was I am going to do it to him with a burning stick.”

Loki grimaced. “He was foul. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth and I used the elbow strike you taught me. He’s big, though, Thor and he ripped my pants open – Mother will kill me – and pulled them down and I kicked his legs out from under him and he fell on me and grabbed my balls and that’s when I remembered I had my knife and I cut him – and I ran like a rabbit.” 

“Like a wolf,” I amended. “Good for you. That’s my Loki,” and I hugged him. “Did you kill him, you think?” If so, I thought, I would need to get the Three and do a little housekeeping.

“No, I’m sure not. He was screaming. I chipped the edge of my knife, though.” He held it out to me; I think that distressed him most. It was a gift from me with a green jewel in the hilt and he was very proud of it. 

Hit bone, I thought. Good little fighter he's turning into. 

"That can be fixed, I've done it many times with a sword. You stay here," I said – as if he was going anywhere pantless in the castle. I locked the door against chambermaids that might be hunting me in hungry packs for a taste of a real Viking. Loki was looking a little pale – actually a little bluish, although that didn’t mean anything to me then.

“You did very well,” I said. I noticed suddenly that he was only about a head shorter than me. “I’m very proud of you. He preys on younger boys. Most of them know him and avoid him, but you didn’t have any way to know. I will take care of him - or Mjolnir will. You skinned your bottom on the stones?”

He made a face. “There was a broken bottle. I thought I could take care of it myself.”

I ruffled his hair. “Let me see, Loki. It’s just Brother.” He turned around and I had him lay down and dabbed the blood away. It was just cut, no glass bits that I could see or feel that would trouble him later. It was already trying to heal, although I had begun to realize Loki didn't heal quite like I did. I noticed how perfect his body was, the long back with the faintest down just above his buttocks and the long legs a little heavier at the thigh with saddle muscles. The cut was high enough that it wouldn’t bother him when he sat down and I bandaged it, trying to ignore the thump in my groin.

“That should be better. Turn over and let me see the rest of the damage.” _He’s just my little brother,_ I thought, but when he rolled over and pulled one knee up so I could see the bruises I noticed he had a line of fine hair running from his navel to his groin, where it spread out into a perfect triangle. When did that happen? I wanted to follow the trail with my fingers and I tried very hard not to think that. 

He had some bruises that were already fading on the inside muscle of his thighs. Where the soon-to-be-late Voldstet had grabbed him, his balls were visibly swollen and that would take a while, especially with his slower powers. Perhaps he would grow into it. He was propped up on his elbows watching me and I wished he wouldn’t because Just Brother was having a –well, a hard time. I walked a little stiffly to the window, got some snow off the sill, wrapped it in a rag and said, “This will help,” and I held it gently against the soft perfect balls. There was no reason to do so, he was perfectly capable of doing it himself but he was also perfectly willing to let Just Brother Whose Crotch Was On Fire do it. 

“Ohhh,” he said, laying back and Gods help me, pulling up the other knee, “the cold hurts, but it feels good too.” He sighed and wriggled contentedly and then I just let go the rope of sanity and went to my doom like a man. "Loki," I said, “I was angry because I thought…well, that you’d been…”

“Playing those games?” he asked, flat on his back, gazing at the beams overhead. He seemed very much at ease. I stood over him, my mouth dry. He narrowed his eyes at the ceiling and pointed his finger at a moth fluttering near a spider web. He drew it away using the magic that was born in him and when it was safe he released it with a small wave.

"Yes. It's not...well, I know you're getting of an age...I mean, I know you're growing up, but..." 

“But you wouldn’t like that,” he said matter-of-factly, lifting one high-arched bare foot and putting it on my shoulder. He was smiling like a lizard and I realized he knew exactly what he was doing and who he was doing it to and damned if I hadn't been seduced. So I gave it back in kind. I fenced him in with my arms, hands flat on each side, and bent over him a little menacingly, if you can call it that at seventeen. He made wide innocent eyes at me, and I reached down and slapped that impudent bottom hard and made him yelp. 

“No, I wouldn't like at all. And there's more where that came from if you try my patience. You belong to _me_. And if anyone is going to touch you here…or here…or here…” And I touched him; the tip of his cock, trailed my hand down to that dark triangle and then down, carefully, to his balls. He caught his breath and looked startled; he hadn't quite expected that. He tried to sit up and I pushed him back down. It was apparently time to establish who was elder here. "If you're going to be touched like that, then _I_ will be the one who does it. The only one," I said harshly. 

But he was never much afraid of me. He reached up and touched my face, dissolving my scowl and when he moved I saw as if for the first time the muscles flex in the lovely long body with its young perfect skin. I dropped down on the bed beside him and he leaned his head against me and nuzzled like a trusting animal.

I would give much to know that kind of innocent trust again.

“I want it to be you, too,” he said with the mischievous smile I loved. And he opened his arms wide. 

Oh, he belonged in my embrace; he was made for it; those long coltish legs sprawled carelessly over me.He nestled his face in the hollow of my throat and lay confidently, letting me show him what his body did. How the pale nipples tightened under my lips, how when my thumb pulled back the foreskin what was beneath was insanely sensitive to the touch of finger or tongue. He’d learned how to pleasure himself, as we all do, not quite to the point of coming, maybe, but now I was teaching him the rest of the lesson. He was not as big there as I was but it was nothing to be ashamed of either, perfect and straight, and I showed him what happened when you ran your thumb down the groove on the underside and when I did that he began clutching for air, pillow, mattress, anything.

“My heart’s going to explode,” he whispered, all his insouciance gone.

“It just feels like it,” I said, and kissed him. And I realized I’d wanted this forever, and it felt - right, it felt innocent. We played with his body as if it was a wonderful toy and I felt his hand on me, practicing, doing what I was doing. I put my fingers in his mouth and taught him suck them, which made my eyes glaze over. "So beautiful," I said, and he looked at me quizzically. "Me?" he said. I nodded, and said seriously. "You are my beautiful Loki." Then I held him a little tighter and slid my fingers down between his buttocks and he tensed up immediately, as we all do and I let my fingers stay there while I kissed and calmed him. 

He wasn't sure of this at all, I could see that. “Does that hurt?” I asked, wondering for a moment if Voldstet...but no. He was just out of his depth, my baby brother. He shook his head and then buried his head in my chest, two splotches of red on his face.

“It…it makes me feel…like I want you to...like I want more…but I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Don't be ashamed, it's all right. Hey... Whose boy are you ,Loki? Who does Loki belong to?” Now this was an old old game we’d played when he had just begun to talk. "For! Loki belongs to For!" he'd crow. But right now there was thunder and lightning going on between us and it roused me so much my jaws ached and I had to disengage his fingers. No bonded pair has there ever been but has special words and rituals and this became ours: _Who do you belong to?_

He was lost, his mouth open, his eyes, I swear, almost crossed as my hand pumped up and down. 

“Who?” I said again, stroking his cock harder and using my free hand to make circles around the opening below. “Tell Brother. Are you mine?”

"Yes," he said, panting a little.

I leaned down and licked the length of his cock. "Say my name," I ordered. "Who do you belong to?" 

“Thor. Thor. Wait, don't..." Whatever was happening in his body was new to him. I kissed the insides of his thighs; he really did smell and taste wonderful. He was not in control, and knew it. I could feel his heartbeat when I touched him. 

"You're all right, silly." I brought my fingers up, licked the salt taste of them and teased his mouth with them. I wanted him, and I wanted him to love this but I remember being a little pleased at his loss of composure. "You didn't answer me." 

He made a little strangled sound. I grinned. “I didn’t hear you, my own. Who does this belong to?” I asked, wrapping my wet fingers around his cock.

“You, always,” he said a little shakily. I thought I might have overwhelmed him, so I dropped the play for a moment and petted him. "It's only me, " I said gently. "Do you need to stop?" Because even at seventeen and being mostly just sex and muscle and not much brain then, I was aware that he was different, that he was fragile in ways I knew nothing about. Sometimes he had terrible dreams. If he was badly hurt or upset it would make him throw up, something I never did except after a long night of drinking. Now he shook his head and I made him look me in the eyes. Satisfied that he was all right, I moved on top of him, careful to take my weight on my forearms. 

“Say,”I belong to Thor,” I ordered, resuming the game, reaching down and beginning that slow steady rhythm again and he cried wildly, “I do, I do belong to you.”

"Wrap your legs around me," I said, and he did and I slid one hand under him and lifted him up against me. His body told him what he needed and he bucked against me frantically. No one - nothing - has ever fed the hunger in me like this. This was no more than play and yet I was filled with both desire and delight. “What do you need, my baby,” I teased. “Tell Brother.” 

He didn’t have any words for a moment and then he said, “I’m going to die, Thor." 

I started laughing. “No you’re not, goose," and I kissed him hard on the throat and whispered, “Do you need to come, is that what you need? Can you come right now for me?”

Now that was a stupid question: he was fifteen; the very word “come” was enough to do it, never mind me poking around where he’d never been touched. He made a sound – it is his sound, the one I hear in my dreams and it’s almost enough to make _me_ come - almost a yelp, partly a sob, and my name, "Thor!". He came, I felt the heat and wetness of it splattering my belly and I held him hard against me.

“That’s my boy, that’s my pet,” I crooned, praising such a wonderful feat, such a clever boy. 

I needed to end this now, because I was feeling a little like I was going to die. I didn't mean to penetrate him, not all the way, just enough, just long enough to finish this. You see, I hadn’t actually _done_ that with a male. I’d done the usual way with thousands (ah, twenty or so) of girls but as far as males, I was running with seventeen year olds no more sophisticated than I was and while there was a lot of poking and stroking and knocking at the back door, well, none of us had ever actually been in, so to speak. We were often on the cusp of doing it but we always came somewhere around then because well, we were seventeen and everything was like lightning.

"I need you..." I began and he opened those beautiful eyes and smiled drowsily and said, “I love you, Brother,” and wrapped those long legs tighter and waited for me to do this new thing with perfect confidence that I knew what I was doing and would never ever hurt him. And that, my friends, was when I created my own little Ragnarok.

I wish he had had Sight enough to sense what was about to happen and kick me in the balls. But he didn't. He pulled my head down and ran his tongue over my lips and and whispered something lovely and obscene and I - I lost control. I slammed into him as if I was running a wild boar through with my cock. 

Now it would have been bad had I merely stuck to my original plan, for there are things required which I not only did not have and had not done but did not realize were required. But this was terrible. He came up under me with a yell of pain that I smothered on reflex (older brothers tend to get in the habit of that) and for a second there was nothing I could do because my whole body had turned to molten fire and ice. Loki's eyes rolled up in his head and he went limp. That brought me to like a cold splash of water. 

I had killed him. 

I pulled away - none too gently for either of us- and I rolled off him, picked him up and began rocking him frantically. “Loki? Brother? Are you all right? I’m so sorry, I’m so stupid, please talk to me.” My own pain was nothing. I could see the scene in my head. _Mother, I killed him. It was an accident. You see we were –_ No, no, better just to die beside him. I wasn't sure I could kill myself with Mjolnir but I intended to try. 

He came to just about then with no other thought than to get as far away from me and my boar-killing cock as possible and fought me like a tiger for a few minutes and we fell off the bed onto the stone floor and I realized there was blood. It was just a trickle but to me it might as well have been gushing arterial blood. I still had my hand over his mouth and he bit me, and I let go and held him by main force because I did not want him, naked and bloody, bolting down the stairs. It may be amusing now to think of me with my eyes halfway out of my head in terror holding onto my naked, hysterical brother by an ankle and his wrists but I assure you there was nothing funny about it then. I was no longer the sexual warrior of Asgard. I was an idiot, and furthermore I had hurt my little brother in the worst possible way. 

"Oh God, I didn't mean to do that. I am so sorry...Brother is so sorry. " I had mentally gone back to when he was four and I had put him up on the table to jump into my arms. I could still hear the squeal of joy as he leaped - and fell a foot short of where I was standing. "I will make this up to you, Loki. You can have Mjolnir. You can have my horse. You can have Mjolnir _and_ the horse.” 

“I don’t think I will ever want to ride again,” he said distantly. “Brother?”

“Yes, Loki, yes, my love, talk to me."

“I didn't like the last part as well as I thought I would,” he said weakly.

Then he threw up all over both of us.

I managed to clean everything up - what the chamber maid thought I do not know - and having ascertained he was not in fact bleeding to death, I put a clean nightshirt on him and put him in my bed. I do not remember what illness I claimed for both of us, but I did, indeed, feel quite sick for a while. But at some point after hovering over him for hours I crawled miserably beneath the covers and he opened his eyes sleepily and seeing my distress, said, "It's all right, Thor, nothing is broken," and kissed me - a child's kiss - and went back to sleep nestled against me. Such is the wonder of little brothers. Such was his heart towards me. Ask me now if you dare whether it came hard to me for forgive him for his sins later on. 

Later, I went and damaged Voldstet severely, since this would never have happened except for him. I also conferred with an older friend in reference to a theoretical situation one might encounter in one's ardor and while the insensitive bastard laughed so hard he had to step outside to keep from pissing himself, I acquired information much needed and such things as one needs for these ventures should we in fact ever venture there again. (We did). Also I bought Loki a huge box of books - I don't know what books, but he liked them and still loved me, which is all I cared about. 

He also made a list of "All The Times Thor Tried To Kill Me" which he referred to when the opportunity for blackmail arose. It was a very long list. I believe he still has it.

And he is, and ever will be, my own.


End file.
